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“So you want me to forgive you?” I asked coldly. “So you can clear your conscience?”
He lifted his eyes again. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I want you to have my apology.”
“You know, this would have meant a lot more…I don’t know…six or seven years ago.”
He gave a slight nod. “I knew you didn’t want to talk to me.”
“And you think that’s changed?”
His eyes turned rigid, and he swallowed.
“It hasn’t.”
* * *
The cemetery was full of olive trees, an open landscape with the hills in full view. It was a beautiful place to sleep for eternity. It was a warm afternoon, but the breeze was kind enough to lick the sweat from our skin.
The priest continued the service at the gravesite as we all stood around. Aunt Rebecca sobbed into her black handkerchief while her son stood at her side, devoid of all emotion like that would make it easier for his mother. My father stood with his hands in his pockets, looking at the midnight-black coffin with a pearl shine, lifeless as a stone, as if losing his only brother was just another day on the job.
I knew I looked emotionless as well, but that was due to the company.
The casket was lowered. Everyone grabbed a handful of white lilies and tossed them on top. Uncle Tony was buried with the love of his friends and family. It was a beautiful and painful sight, but all I could think about was how he’d been killed.
There was no rosary. No open casket. Suspicious for Catholics.
He was probably butchered beyond repair—and everyone knew it.
Aunt Rebecca continued to sob at the gravesite, sitting in one of the white chairs as the sun hit her back. Alex was now the man of the family, and he seemed to take that role seriously by never leaving her side.
As the crowd started to thin, my eyes found a face similar to mine.
Dark hair. Green eyes. Both timid and skittish. She held my gaze like she was as mesmerized by me as I was by her. Seven years since I’d last seen her face or even a photo of her. When I left, she was a girl. But now…she was a woman.
A married woman. A diamond ring was on her left hand, and a man in a suit stood beside her. He was a good-looking guy, but his eyes were unkind. He looked like someone who could easily be cruel.
He turned away, tugging her arm slightly as he guided her from the gravesite.
That was when the sun hit her face like a spotlight.
And I saw it—the black eye.
It had to be several days old because it was faint, faint enough that makeup could hide it well in normal light. But the second she turned fully into the sun, it was like a slide under a microscope, a criminal under the spotlight.
* * *
My father’s estate was grand, shiny with shameless greed. Three stories with a large courtyard, something unheard of in the heart of Florence, and an entire maid service at his beck and call—for a single man.
Uncle Tony’s blood paid for this place.
Most people were gathered in the courtyard where large olive trees stood tall in their pots. Streams of lights crossed the area, ready to illuminate the party once the sun was gone. Waiters came around and served wine and cocktails to guests who stood and chatted. Others sat at the round tables with white tablecloths and ate their dinner. A fountain with flowing water stood in the center of it all, the sound accompanied by quiet music over the speakers.
How are you, sweetheart?
Despite how shitty the day was, that message managed to tug my lips into a smile.Been better, vampire.
I’ve been called a few names in my lifetime. Never that one.
It suits you.
